


Jealous Guy

by aem77



Category: Nothing Much to Do
Genre: Mild Language, Spoilers (if you aren't familiar with the source material)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 16:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2116791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aem77/pseuds/aem77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was feeling insecure, you might not love me anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've never had much sympathy for Shakespeare's Claudio, but I'm finding that now that he's a 17 year old boy, that's changing. It's not that I agree with anything Claud does, but unfortunately I am all too aware of what insecurity and righteous anger feel like and the horrible behavior that can ensue. This fic is looking to explore that a bit. I've seen lots of retellings of Much Ado that (rightfully I think) modernize the ending, with Hero rejecting Claudio. I've yet to see, but would love, one that has Claudio evolve as well (Shakespeare gives him the girl but no epiphanies, sadly). Might try to remedy that here...

“You know he’s only on the team because Robbie was kicked off, right?” A voice asks from behind a row of lockers. 

Claud tenses and strains to hear the conversation taking place.

“Right. But he’s not really _bad_ ,” This cheers Claud up considerably till the second voice continues, “Not _great_ , either. But he’s not going to lose any matches for us at least.” Claud thinks he can identify the speaker as Bruce Poppy, a 10th year striker on the team.

“Not gonna win any either,” huffs the other boy. Claud racks his brain through all the team trying to put a face to the voice. Adam Hilarie, maybe? “I just wish Robbie’d never left. Or at least they could have pulled a better replacement than that pretty boy…” The voice trails off as the boys leave the locker room.

Claud lets his jersey fall to the floor and puts his head into his hands pressing his palms hard into his closed eyes. Dammit. He knew he shouldn’t have let Ben talk him into trying out for the team again. After he’d gotten over the hurt of not getting chosen at the start of term, he’d been wary to have another go. The sting of that rejection still smarted. Better to let things be. If you don’t put yourself out there, no one can hurt you. But Ben had been all, “C’mon! It will be brilliant!” and “Girls always fancy footballers; you’ll be swatting them away!”

But Ben’s not like him. Benedick seems perfectly fine with being laughed at, courts it even, delighting in any smirks or giggles that come his way. Claud can’t understand him at all. Where does he get that confidence from anyhow? Objectively, Claud reckons he’s the handsomer of the two. So how does Ben walk around with such bravado and confidence, while Claud feels like he’s always one second away from being called out as an imposter and set adrift? He’s always begging Ben to keep his voice down, to tone it down a bit, anything to keep from drawing attention to the pair of them. But Ben is Ben and wherever he goes attention and laughter are sure to follow. Claud just prays none of it is directed at him.

 _He may be right about the girls, though_ , Claud thinks brightening a bit. Hero and her cousin had been at practice again this afternoon. He sits a bit taller and smiles to himself thinking of Hero’s golden hair shining in the sun. He still can’t quite believe that none of the other boys have shown an interest in the coach’s lovely sister. Maybe they were all afraid of Leo? That’s the only explanation he can come up with for why an angel like Hero hasn't been snatched up by one of the other boys on the team.

And she had been smiling in his direction particularly this afternoon, he’s certain. Thank God, he’d managed that assist. The smile she’d given him then and the small wave of her delicate hand had made him feel proud, prouder than anything he’d experienced yet here at Messina High. He’d gone on to flub a handful of goals after that but that may have been due more to Hero’s attention truthfully than any lack of skill on his part.

Hero is like the football team times 1000. Sure he’d love to ask her out, way more than he cares about chasing some ball across a pitch. But to hear her say no, no doubt in some extraordinarily kind and pitying way- this was Hero after all, would be way worse than not seeing his name on the roster posted on the school’s bulletin board. After all, what could she possibly see in him that could cause her to say yes?

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Of course she’d chosen Pedro. He was Pedro Donaldson: captain of the football club, student leader, all around great guy. Pedro fucking Donaldson. What girl would want to be with Claud if they could get with Pedro instead?

He plops down on his pillow and stares up at his bedroom ceiling wishing he could get to sleep. At least in sleep he could dream of Hero. Dream that it was him she wanted, his hands she’d hold in her own as she leaned in to whisper some secret or other into his ear. He groans and rolls onto his side as the image of Hero sharing some confidence with Pedro at the party assaults his memory. She’d looked so mischievous, her smoky eyes gleaming with some witticism or other, as she’d leaned into Pedro against the doorframe. She’d looked so unlike her normal self, older somehow, sexier, less innocent. It had shocked and excited him simultaneously.

Pedro fucking Donaldson. What was he playing at anyway? Pretending to talk to her for Claud then making a move himself! Pedro must have had liked her for forever. It’s the only explanation. Claud remembers from Ben’s vlog. Hadn’t he stressed again and again how nice Hero was? How happy she always seemed. Pedro must have just been waiting, biding his time to approach her. It wasn’t till Claud showed an interest that Pedro must have realized he’d have to act or lose his chance with her.

Really though Claud should have talked to her himself. A real man wouldn’t need someone else to talk to a girl for him. But she made him so damn nervous. He seemed to develop a kind of idiocy every time she was near. Not able to talk or even think when she was standing close. Why would Hero want someone who couldn’t even speak to her? Who sweat and shook at the sight of her? God, he was pathetic, pathetic and unlovable. He didn’t deserve her. He probably didn’t deserve anyone. And sweet, lovely, playful Hero, she definitely deserved better, captain-of-the-football-team better.

Claud pinches the bridge of his nose tightly, face scrunched up in exertion, willing himself out of self-pity and into fucking sleep. But that’s the thing about pity. It’s an unbreakable cycle, really. The more he wallows the harder it becomes to emerge. He feels as if he’s drowning in his own mind, recalling again and again Pedro and Hero, their flirtatious smiles turning into mocking smirks. Pathetic, he thinks again, grinding his teeth now, he was pathetic, pathetic and unlovable. Of course she wouldn’t chose him. Who in their right mind would?  


	3. Chapter 3

_Don’t. Dammit. Just fucking don’t_ , he begs himself as he bites hard on his knuckle to stifle a sob. He holds his breath then ears ringing with the absolute silence of Pedro’s bedroom. The room is just a little _too_ silent and he suspects Pedro has heard his crying and is kindly pretending to be asleep. As he pulls the blanket higher along his frame and shifts attempting to find comfort on the floor alongside Pedro’s bed, he feels a fresh rush of humiliation. The last thing he needs is Pedro’s pity. 

He couldn’t even make it home tonight. The shock and then anger and then mortification of what John had shown them had immobilized him. Pedro had even had to call his parents to let them know he would be spending the night. They probably suspected drink or drugs had kept him off the phone. Little would they suspect it was heartbreak that had their son now tossing furiously and unable to sleep. He can’t stop the tears flowing freely down his face now, mixing with snot as they drip dampening his pillow. _Pathetic_ , he thinks again, punching the pillow as he flops his body from side to back, _Utterly pathetic_.

His heart had broken tonight. Shattered really, into thousands of tiny fragments. He can’t imagine it will ever be able to be put back together again. Hero, cheating, lying, treacherous, Hero had taken it in her small gentle soft hands and smashed it. Hands he’d just seen passionately entangled in a stranger’s dark hair.

He had loved her _so much_ ; so much more than he’d ever loved anything before. He’d have done anything for her, anything at all. It was as if he’d been living in shadows until she’d held his face in her hands and told him she loved him. He’d cried then too, but tears of joy, tears of pride. He’d believed her. It had taken everything he had to believe her but he had. And just like that he saw himself through her eyes: interesting, handsome, _worthy_. Everything he’d never thought he could be. For once he had loved something more than he hated himself. But he’d loved and she’d cheated.

Now she’d closed her eyes, throwing him into darkness once more. No, not closed them, but turned them to someone else instead, an insult much worse than rejection. _She’s been laughing at me_ , he realizes. He feels the now familiar wash of heat course through his body, a sensation he recognizes as fury. _I don’t deserve this_ , he thinks bitterly. He may be pathetic, weak, unworthy, but he doesn’t deserve to feel this way. _She shouldn’t get to treat me this way._

He’s never hit anyone in his life, always been quick to shy away from a fight, but in this minute he’s alarmed to realize he wants to hurt Hero, to really, really hurt her. His own hurt is like a tangible living being, filling him up, rising from his feet, bulldozing its way to his head till he can’t think or see or feel anything but it. _She’s laughing at me. I don’t deserve to feel like this. She shouldn’t get to make me feel this way._

He vows right then and there to make sure she too will feel this, this warped and twisted pain that feels as though its eating him alive. Ben’s caution be damned. His heart and head are set on revenge and while the fury and rage still pulse unabated through his veins, he finds that he is able to breath again as he fixes his mind on plotting the particulars of his vengeance.


	4. Chapter 4

“Do we have to do this with the camera on?”

“Of course! Absolutely,” Ben insists. “It’s very…”

“Therapeutic. Yes, I know.” Claud interrupts with a huff settling himself resignedly onto Ben’s couch and glaring at the camera in front of him. He supposes he may as well. If Hero won’t take his calls or reply to his texts, Ben’s vlog may be the only way to possibly reach her.

“Exactly. Therapeutic,” Ben agrees happily seating himself besides Claud and clapping him on the back.

Ben just stays there smiling at him encouragingly, so Claud takes that as a sign to begin.

“Okay,” he begins nervously turning to address the camera, “so Hero if you’re watching this I just wanted to say I am so very sorry for…”

But he doesn’t get a chance to enumerate on all of the things he is so very sorry for, because Ben cuts him off just then with an exasperated cry. “No, no, no! Stop right there, mate. I did not invite you onto my vlog for this,” he waves his hand vaguely in front of Claud, “whatever this is.”

“Well then, what the hell are we doing this for?” Claud can’t imagine what good could come from talking with Ben about this mess if not to finally be able to get to explain himself to Hero.

“We are doing this for _you_ ,” Ben says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“But if I’m going to get Hero back…” Claud begins, meaning to explain to Ben how important this one task is. How he would do anything to have her listen to him. Hell, to have her even look at him again.

“Not gonna happen.” Ben says simply. “You need to get that out of your mind, mate. Hero and you are done, finito. That ship has sailed,” Ben sweeps his arm wide to mime a ship moving out to sea.

He’s wrong. Benedick is dead wrong. Claud needs to make him understand. Without Hero, Claud is nothing. He needs her, at the very least the hope of her, to go on.

Claud must look as though he’s about to argue, because Ben begins again in a very slow and patronizing tone, “I did not invite you to come today to talk about Hero,” then turning to the camera he adds, “because I am not certifiably insane. Really, viewers, this young man here has done nothing but moan and groan about that fair lady for weeks now and it is driving us all round the bend. If I have to listen to another, _Oh Benedick what will I do without her_?” he begins in a whiney singsong, eyes closed and hands over his heart, “ _I’ll die_!”

Ben falls dramatically against the sofa’s armrest as Claud growls warningly, “Ben. Can we get on with this please?”

“Right. Sorry. I digress. As I was saying,” he continues righting himself and turning to face Claud, “I didn’t invite you here to talk about Hero. I invited you here to talk about you.”

“What about me?” Claud asks defensively. He’s an ass. Hero knows it. He knows it. Hell anyone watching these videos knows it. What more is there to say?

But Ben changes tactics and answers Claud’s question with one of his own, “When you saw Meg with Robbie, why did you immediately assume it was Hero?”

This gives Claud pause. Why had he been so sure? “Because it was,” he begins trying earnestly to understand and explain himself. “I mean, it wasn’t. I know that now. But then, in that moment, it was. I was sure. Like I'm sure its you sitting here right now.” He trails off, trying to remember that moment. He knows it isn’t possible but he swears he even remembers seeing Hero’s face.

“That’s the thing though,” Ben continues leaning back in his seat assuming what Claud can only imagine Ben considers an intellectual pose, “ _why_ were you so sure? If it were me and I had seen Beatrice with someone else,” he stops now to wink at the camera and give a quick “Hi babe” to his lately acquired girlfriend, “I think I’d doubt my own eyes before I’d doubt her.”

“I didn’t want it to be Hero!” Claud all but yells getting angry now. What was Ben implying? That he loved Beatrice more than Claud loved Hero? He would have done anything for it not to be Hero! But it had been, he could have sworn it had been. And yet it hadn’t. He was still so confused by that.

“So why?” Ben asks again, persistent but more kindly.

“I guess,” Claud begins hesitantly voicing his thoughts as they occur to him, “ I guess I _expected_ it to be her. Not because of who she is,” he explains quickly, “but because of who I am.” Even as he’s getting over the shock of this epiphany, he already recognizes its truth. From the moment he and Hero had gotten together he’d been waiting for it to end, for her to get wise, realize he was nothing special, for her to move on and leave him.

“You’re an alright guy, Claud. You know that don’t you?” Ben asks genuinely. Claud just stares back at him.

“You mucked it up with Hero,” Ben goes on, “but there will be other girls.” Claud makes to argue again. He doesn’t want other girls. He wants Hero! But Ben won’t let him interrupt. He places his hand firmly on Claud’s shoulder and repeats trying to catch and hold Claud’s gaze, “There will be other girls. And when there are, you’re going to have to believe them when they say they want to be with you. You’re going to have to believe that you’re an alright guy.”

Claud doesn’t know what to say to that. But it means something to him that Ben’s bothered to say any of this at all. That’s got to mean something right? So he gives the other boy a small nod and smile. He can be an annoying little prat most of the time, but Benedick Hobbes is a good friend.

Ben smiles back and then makes to turn off the camera. He hesitates for a moment though and turns back to Claud. The punch that meets Claud’s cheek isn’t particularly powerful, but it is so unexpected Claud’s head bangs back against the couch cushions causing almost as much damage as Ben’s knuckles did to his face. “What the hell was that then?” He asks in total shock.

Ben looks almost as scandalized as Claud and stutters nervously, “Sorry mate, I promised Bea…and you did sort of deserve it.”

Rubbing his palm against his face, Claud gives a small chuckle. Yeah, he reckons he did.


End file.
